


Plug In Baby

by LadyKatie512



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Bunker Hill, Canon-Typical Violence, Diamond City, Drug Addiction, F/M, Gang Violence, Mental Illness, Spoilers, Suicidal Thoughts, The Commonwealth, Underage Drinking, University Point, You already know how this ends, cannon friendly, no happy ending, pre-Fallout 4
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-06-05 15:51:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15174125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyKatie512/pseuds/LadyKatie512
Summary: Twenty Eight years before the Sole Survivor ever crawled out of Vault 111 in search of their son, there was a group of teenagers and young adults that banded together to keep The Institute and their synths out of University Point.Fourteen years before he started calling himself codename Deacon, Johnny helped found this gang, the UP Deathclaws, along with his older cousin and best friend.Five years before the discovery of her secret and brutal death, Barbara finds herself in University Point with her father's caravan, sitting alone in the town's bar on the Fourth of July.





	Plug In Baby

**Author's Note:**

> "I'm a liar. Everyone knows it. I make no secret of it. Because the truth is I'm a fraud. To my core. When I was young, a hell of a long time ago, I was... well scum. I was a bigot. A very violent bigot."  
> \-- Deacon

**07.04.2259 16:51**

He felt like the sun was searing the very ground he stood upon. He was leaning on his baseball bat, the chain wrapped barrel was digging into the soft earth of the farmland. They had come after some wretch was complaining her daughter had run off to live in the country with her ex. That alone, of course, hadn’t piqued their interest. The part where the woman was accusing her ex of being a synth had.

Simon ended up waking him around noon so he could trek out to the farm with the rest of the Deathclaws and give the farmer what for. The second he saw the twelve of them walk onto his farm the coward had bolted inside his shanty house. For the first hour after that, some of the boys used the tatos the synth was farming for batting practice, and the walls of the shanty house had become quickly decorated with red and brown splatters of the fruit. Then, two of them, he thinks it was Pete and Jamie, decided to set fire to the field of razorgrain.

As if it wasn’t hot enough already.

He pulled a red bandanna from the back pocket of his jeans and wiped his forehead with it, keeping his sweat from falling into his eyes or onto his sunglasses.

“Johnny!” He heard Simon shouting and looked to the shanty house again, finding the gang’s leader walking towards him. “This has dragged on way to long, man. He and that brat aren’t gonna come out.”

“Oh, you think so?” the question left his lips dripping with sarcasm.

“Yeah, I think so, asshole,” Simon’s jaw clenched under his dark beard. “We’re gonna draw them out.”

“The man has a shotty, we can’t go inside,” Andy said as he walked up to Simon and Johnny to see what the plan was. Johnny wasn’t the only one getting antsy and annoyed, that was for sure.

“No, but we can make him think we’re going inside. At least get the brat to run out the side door. Then we can burn the place down if we want,” Simon crossed his arms, looking between the two of the gang members he trusted the most, his best friend and his cousin.

“No more fire, its a hundred fuckin’ degrees out here already with that burning,” Johnny lifted the barrel of his bat out of the dirt and pointed it at the burning field of razorgrain.

“Get them out here then, and it’s improv from there,” Andy suggested.

“Sounds good. Johnny and I’ll go beat on the door, get those two idiots to go with you to the side door, catch the brat when she bolts,” Simon was talking about Pete and Jamie, “I’ll get the rest of the boys to stand out front and glower.”

“Glowering’s all they’re good for,” Johnny chuckled and propped his bat on his shoulder before walking up to the front door of the shanty house with Simon. He leaned against the wall with the handle of his bat held leisurely in his right hand. The rest of the gang, say for Andy, Pete, and Jamie, gathered around the front of the house, watching Simon’s next move.

“When we get back to town I’m huffing a Jet and fucking that bitch who sent us out here,” Simon mumbled as he stepped in front of the door.

“She’s gotta be close to forty, you sure ‘bout that?” Johnny rose a ginger eyebrow from behind his sunglasses.

“Older women are the best you’ll ever have, trust me,” Simon smoothed his chestnut hair back before knocking on the plywood door of the shanty house. “Time’s up, we’re done waiting!” he shouted when his knuckles fell away from the wood. “Get your ass out here, or we’re coming in!”

Simon stepped to the opposite side of the door, anticipating the synth’s next move. When he was answered with silence he banged on the door again. “Last chance, fucker!”  
Three seconds later the sound of a shotgun cocking preceded buckshot ripping through the plywood door. What was left was kicked open and Johnny reacted accordingly, taking aim and swinging his bat around. The barrel smashed into the synth’s face before he had a chance to pump the shotgun again.

“That took less than a goddamn minute,” Johnny looked up to Simon who was applauding him.

“Nice hit,” Simon smiled through his beard.

“We should’ve done that in the first place,” Johnny kicked the shotgun away from the barely conscious synth and Nathaniel walked forward from the group to pick it up.

“Can we get out of here now?” he asked, pumping the empty shell from the gun before resting the barrel on his shoulder, hand on the stalk.

“As long as we got the kid,” Simon agreed before the gang heard a girl scream and Peter cussing loudly.

“We ain’t got the kid,” Johnny sighed. He figured that Simon had the right idea, a canister of Jet and maybe a cold beer instead of an old hag were waiting for him once he got back to University Point. If he ever got back to University Point.

Johnny followed Simon around the house where they found Andy, Pete, and Jamie standing in the middle of the road near the farm. “What happened?!” Simon shouted, leading the way up to them.

“Little bitch bit me!” Pete hissed. Johnny saw that he was holding his right hand with his left, and a drop of blood fell to the pavement below him. He could have sworn it hit the ground with a sizzle.

“Where’d the kid go?” Simon asked, looking to Andy.

“Ran off,” Andy crossed his arms, nodding in a direction towards a railroad overpass. Johnny caught the tail end of the girl disappearing into one of the cargo cars.

“She’s not running, she’s hiding,” Johnny sighed, handing his bat to Simon. “Stay here, I don’t wanna chase her all around the ‘Wealth.” Alone, he walked up the road and climbed up to the overpass to the orange freight compartment the girl was hiding in.

“Hey?” he called out, gently raping his knuckles against the metal so he wouldn’t startle her. For the life of him, he couldn’t remember the girl’s name, or if Simon had even mentioned her name. “Mind if I join you, sugar?”

“Go away!” he heard from within the car. “I mean it!” her voice betrayed her and let Johnny know how truly terrified she was.

“Not gonna hurt you, I just wanna talk.” Slowly, he pushed the door open until he could see the girl huddled up in the far corner, her knees to her chest and a dull switchblade pointed at him.

“Did you kill my dad?” her voice quivered and her blade shook in her hand. Half of her face was hidden behind her knees.

“That thing wasn’t your dad, sugar,” Johnny pulled a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket, tapping on the top twice before pulling out a cigarette and his flip lighter. It was way too hot to be smoking, but he wasn’t sure how else to convey to the girl how laid-back he was, even with her poorly threatening him with a knife. “You’ve heard of synths right? Body snatchers and spies for the Institute?”

“He’s not a synth, he’s my dad!” the girl insisted, poking her head up from behind her knees and Johnny saw it, the cut and bleeding lip the girl had, and an ugly looking bruise forming around it.

“What happened to your face?” Johnny hopped up into the car and the girl flinched further into her corner, the switchblade she held raising as he towered over her.

“He punched me,” the girl admitted and behind his sunglasses, Johnny rolled his eyes. He turned to look around the car of the train, finding an old sleeping bag and lantern, a faded cooler, and under some old Boston Bugles he saw the neck of a bottle, with the cap still sealed.

“Pete’s an asshole,” Johnny turned his back to the girl to pick up the liquor and read the label, “Old Appalachia, premium bourbon. Aged nine years,” he laughed at the last bit. It had to be nearly, if not over, 200 years old. He twisted the cap off before taking his cigarette from his mouth and putting the neck to his lips. “Yeah,” he choked, turning back to the girl. “That’s older than nine years.” Before walking back to her, he checked the cooler and found a few canisters of Jet and an old box of Mentats. 

He made his way back over to her, crouching and dropping the cooler at his side after sticking his cigarette back in his mouth. “Here,” he took the bandanna out of his back pocket and drenched it in the bourbon before handing it to her.

The girl was still holding the switchblade out, Johnny was close enough now that if she wanted to try and stab him, she could. She didn’t, however, and instead reached for the bandanna with confusion, pulling the switchblade back.

“Clean up so you don’t get infected,” he advised, braving another swig from the bourbon bottle. She put the bandanna to her mouth and immediately pulled it away with a pained gasp. “Yeah, it’ll sting,” he mumbled the warning with his cigarette between his lips, putting the cap back on the bourbon.

The girl gingerly patted at her lip and chin, cleaning up the blood and leaving only the cut and bruise on her lip. She handed the rag back to him then and he accepted it before taking his sunglasses off. “Let me take a look,” he reached out and gently turned her head so he could better see her injury, thumb and forefinger lightly gripping her chin.

“Is it bad?” she asked, keeping her eyes on him, staring right into the bright blue eyes Johnny had.

“You’re lucky. Any worse and we’d have to amputate.” The girl’s own blue eyes widened when he said that and he flashed her a smile, a weapon just as effective as his bat. “C’mon, lets get you back to the city.”

“I don’t wanna go back,” she protested weakly as Johnny stood up, extending his hand for her.

“You gotta go back, you can’t stay out here by yourself,” Johnny insisted, putting his sunglasses back on.

“I’m not by myself, I’m with my dad--”

“Can’t let you stay with a synth, sugar,” he insisted. After the girl chewed over her options she allowed him to help her up. “I’ll buy you a Nuka when we’re back in town, okay? A cold one.”

“Okay,” she replied sadly and Johnny hopped out of the train, cooler under his left arm and bourbon in his left hand, helping the girl out after. Making their way back to the UP Deathclaws that were waiting in the road, Johnny walked the girl up to Simon, handing him the bourbon and chem cooler before making his way to a glaring Pete.

Without a word he threw the hardest right hook at him that he could and immediately Peter spun and fell limp in the road. “Fff-” Johnny bit his tongue to keep from cussing, examining his knuckles as pain radiated up his arm. “That one we’ll have to amputate for sure,” he shook his right hand as he looked back to the girl, a smile appearing on her previously shocked face.

“Yeah that one’s better off without a head,” Simon agreed, taking a swig from the bourbon before passing it off to Andy, he had already given the cooler to Nathaniel. “Someone grab him, will ya?” he pointed to Pete after handing Johnny his bat and the gang began their trek back to University Point.

\---

**07.04.2259 20:06**

“I thought Simon was gonna bang that girl’s mom?” Andy asked from John’s right. He looked up from his bottle of Gwinnet Ale and towards the door of the tavern.

“Maybe she’s too frigid for him,” Johnny barely mustered a laugh before taking a swig from the bottle before him.

“No luck, Simon?” Andy asked as Simon took a seat at the bar on the other side of Johnny.

“Don’t push it man,” Simon falsely smiled before turning to the old bartender. “Eh, Flanagan pour me some whiskey, will you?”

“What did you boys get up to today?” Flanagan asked as he set a chilled tumbler down in front of Simon and poured half a glass of whiskey for him. “You come in lookin’ pissed as a mutant and Johnny’s damn near broke his hand.”

Simon glanced over to Johnny’s hand, a half frozen rag wrapped around his knuckles like a cold compress. “Just the same old same old. Chasing synths away and keeping UP safe,” he answered but the bartender didn’t look like he bought the explanation.

“You boys are gonna get into some deep shit one a these days, with this invincible attitude o’ yours,” the old bartender said with a shake of his head and moved on to other bar patrons. The three of them glanced to each other before a smile cracked through each of their faces. The bartender’s words slid off of them easily, like water over glass, and were soon forgotten.

“So what are the plans tonight then?” Andy asked, leaning on the bar so he could see both Johnny and Simon. “It’s early on the Fourth of July.”

“Sedate my mom and get high,” Johnny voiced his plans. He didn’t think he was going to spend the night out of his home but it was slowly turning out that way.

“My ma’s got her taken care of,” Simon snorted, sipping at his whiskey. “How about I bet you guys twenty caps I can leave here with a girl in twenty minutes?”

Andy silently rolled his eyes but Johnny let out a loud, “Ha!”

“What?” Simon turned to his cousin. “Are you doubting me?”

“I’d bet thirty that I could leave with her after she turns you down,” Johnny wagered, meeting Simon’s eyes.

“You’re fuckin’ on, asshole,” Simon laughed, and Johnny couldn’t determine if it was fake or not. He finished off his whiskey before slamming the glass on the bar top. “I’m gonna be with some hot babe tonight while you’re shut away in your room with a damn Med-X needle stuck in your arm,” Simon stood up before surveying the crowded bar.

“You’re not gonna bet him forty that you can take the girl home?” Johnny asked Andy, nodding to Simon where he stood.

“I’m strictly a bystander on this one, it’s too good to interfere with,” Andy shook his head before bringing his beer bottle to his lips.

“He’s smart, that’s what he is,” Simon looked back to his friends before calling Flanagan back. “Two bottles of whatever the hell you got,” he told the old bartender. He obliged and pulled out two chilled bottles of Gwinnet Pale, popping the caps off before handing them to Simon.

“Don’t do somethin’ stupid,” the bartender warned but Simon was already walking away. Johnny shook his head and turned forward in his seat.

“What, you giving up already?” Andy asked him.

“He needs the ego boost and twenty caps,” Johnny returned to his ale.

“Looks more like you need that Med-X syringe to me,” Andy cocked his head and Johnny gave him a side glance through narrowed blue eyes.

“Hey, it’s not a problem ‘til it’s a problem, right?” Johnny poorly defended his habit.

“Well we can find out if you ditch this girl for the needle,” Andy pointed and John turned to see Simon standing at a small table with an annoyed looking woman sitting alone. 

“Jesus Christ, what is he doing?” Johnny asked, looking back to Andy with a bemused look. “She’s not even drinking!”

“Maybe the sun baked his brain a little more than ours today,” Andy shrugged and Johnny turned back to see Simon begin to argue with the woman.

“That’s just pathetic,” Johnny pointed out before they both watched on in silence. A minute later, Simon had given up and was walking back to the bar, chugging one of the beers as he walked.

“Jesus, good luck with her,” Andy mumbled, seeing the look on Simon’s face. His beard wasn’t enough to cover his scowl.

“Flanagan!” Johnny jumped up quickly before Simon even reached them. He unwrapped the frozen rag from his right hand and half jumped on top of the bar, grabbing a bottle of Nuka Cola and popping the cap off with the counter. “Simon’s got this one,” he held the bottle up before quickly making his way over to the woman. He passed Simon, shaking his head as he did and Simon’s eyes grew murderous, but he didn’t say anything to Johnny.

He was over to the woman’s table in another few seconds and was immediately greeted by icy daggers that her eyes were shooting at him. “Oh my God--” The woman started before Johnny could even set the Nuka Cola down in front of her.

“Look, give me a second, I’m only here to apologize for my asshole cousin,” he started, setting the frosted bottle on the table.

“Your cousin?” she rose a blonde eyebrow at him before looking off to where Simon was.

“He gets carried away, I saw how he was talking to you. Just wanted to apologize. That’s all,” Johnny scratched at the back of his neck with his uninjured hand.

“Right...” She didn’t look like she was buying, so Johnny had to sell it harder.

“I don’t wanna bother you, like I said, just wanting to say sorry for him. Have a good Fourth, okay?” He began to back away and for a split second the woman looked shocked before her eyebrows pressed together in a frown.

“That’s it?” she asked him, “You’re not gonna ask to take me home, or offer to buy me a drink?”

“Well I already brought you a drink,” Johnny smiled, purposely ignoring what she meant. “I don’t mean no disrespect, lady, but you’re not really my type,” he shrugged and the woman laughed.

“Oh and what is your type?” she picked up the cola, gingerly sipping on it as she waited for a response.

“I--uh...” Johnny was caught off guard by her question. “Okay, if you want I can sit with you at least so other assholes like my cousin don’t come bothering you. You’re not expecting anyone?”

“No, I’m not expecting anyone,” she shook her head setting the Nuka Cola down gently, her accent piquing Johnny’s interest. “I’m not looking to become a charity case, however, Mister...?”

“You can call me Johnny,” he took a seat across from her and could almost feel the temperature in the bar rise from Simon’s outrage. It was difficult not to look over to see his face. “And you’re no charity case, Miss...?” He asked for her name in the same way she had asked for his.

She wasn’t as eager with her answer however, searching his face. “You can call me Barb.” Then it happened. Though the light in the bar was low, he was still blinded by what he saw. His heart sputtered and stopped in his chest and for that moment he forgot everything, who he was, where he was, the nagging itch in his arm, Simon staring at them furiously. Nothing and nobody else existed as she smiled at him.

“So...” he struggled, her enchantment breaking as she rose the Nuka Cola bottle to her rosy lips again. “Um, where are you from, your accent?” Everything quickly fell back into place as time picked up it’s normal pace.

“I was born in South Carolina. Place called Savannah National,” she answered him, noticing that he hadn’t taken his eyes off of her.

“Savannah National? Sounds proper,” Johnny flashed a smile of his own as he chuckled.

“More proper than University Point, in the least,” she didn’t take offense to him.

“Hey now, UP’s one of the largest settlements in Massachusetts,” Johnny leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Wait, say that again?” she rose an eyebrow.

“Say what?” Johnny asked, caught off guard by her odd question.

“Massachusetts,” she was beginning to smile again, but Johnny was ready for it this time. He was caught slightly off guard by her pronunciation of his state’s name, however, sounding more like she had pronounced “Mawsawchewchets”.

He almost laughed at her as he over pronounced his state’s name, “Mas-ah-chu-sits,”

“You Bostonians are so peculiar,” Barb shook her head as she let out a light laugh herself.

“Peculiar?” Johnny laughed as well. “Peculiar for knowing how to pronounce our state name?”

“Tell that to everyone in the south.” Barb was nearly finished with the cola by now.

“What are you doing up here anyways?” Johnny asked her, catching himself staring, so he changed his focus to the sweating Nuka Cola bottle in her hands.

“I’m with my daddy who runs a caravan up and down the coast,” she answered and the Nuka bottle was raised one last time to her lips. “We usually stick to Diamond City, but a trader tipped my daddy off and we stopped here as well.”

“Yeah, UP is where it’s at with trade the past couple of years. We’ll pass Diamond City up soon enough for biggest settlement north of the Capital Wasteland,” John readjusted himself in his seat, leaning over the table now.

“That’s ambitious of you to say,” Barb smiled as she set the empty Nuka Cola bottle down.

“It’s the simple truth,” Johnny responded with a smile of his own. “I can get you another of those, if you like?” he then offered, his blue eyes moving between her lips and the bottle.

“I’d end up drinking you out of your winnings,” Barb answered him, and there was suddenly something else in her steel-blue eyes, something that made Johnny rethink what he just heard.

“You heard us all the way at the bar?” he leaned back, the smile falling off of his face. He couldn’t help but glance over to where Simon and Andy were sat at the bar counter.

“He told me you’d come over from a bet you both had,” Barb confessed and Johnny watched Simon raise his middle finger at him across the bar.

“That fucking asshole,” Johnny turned back to Barb. “Look, I’m so sorry--”

She stopped him before he could fully apologize, “How much was the bet worth?”

Johnny swallowed the rest of his words, the fingers on his left hand drumming against the tabletop on slight annoyance. “Thirty.”

“Thirty? That’s it?” Barb chuckled, leaning over the table, “I want half.” She smiled at him again, nothing about her face or body language showing that she had just thrown him a curve ball. She was putting on an act for Simon and Andy.

John rose one of his eyebrows, “I was gonna say you didn’t seem like a trader’s daughter, but damn. What am I supposed to haggle you down to, fourteen? Thirteen caps?”

“Exactly. So,” Barb placed her hand over Johnny’s and his shock almost broke his calm expression. “Here’s how this is gonna go. You’ll give me half the bet, and I’ll walk out of this bar with you. And you get the satisfaction of showing up your cousin.”

Their faces were too close, it was clouding John’s judgment. With her this close he could clearly see the dark green ring around her irises, he could smell wildflowers mixed with the sweet Nuka Cola on her breath. He didn’t care about the caps, she could have the whole bet if she wanted. He just wanted to leave with her, though her deal implied that was all they would do.

“Deal,” Johnny agreed to her terms, feeling his mouth go dry. His eyes were locked on her as her smile grew, pulling away from him to stand up from the table. Johnny was only frozen in place for a moment before he stood as well, beginning to follow Barb out of the bar like a lost dog before his cool demeanor caught up with the moment.

He reached around her and placed his arm around her waist, his injured hand settling gently on the outermost curve of her hip. She allowed it, looking slightly up to him as her own arm wrapped around his back. Johnny only looked back to the bar for a moment, just in time to see Simon choking on his beer and Andy laughing.

“Did they watch?” Barb asked as they walked out of the bar.

“They did,” Johnny answered, but didn’t remove his arm from her waist. Barb stopped them outside once they were far enough away from the bar. “I obviously don’t have the caps to pay you now, if that’s what that look is for,” Johnny kept is arm around her though she looked uncertain of her situation suddenly.

“Right,” she removed the arm she had around his back and crossed them over her chest. “Well I’ll be in town the next two days.”

“I’ll be sure to have your money to you by then,” Johnny reassured her, but watched her nerves continue to grow.

“Good,” Barb answered him shortly, crossing her arms despite Johnny keeping his arm around her waist. They were well out of sight of the bar now, but he wasn’t quite ready to let her go and call it a night.

“Good,” he smiled at her, still holding her close.

“Well, I should be headed back to the inn,” Barb insisted.

“Maybe you should,” Johnny kept his smile, ignoring the fact that it wasn’t even nine o’clock yet. The fireworks hadn’t even started.

She pursed her lips for a moment, “Look. I’m not the type of girl who just hooks up with men, so I’m sorry--”

“You never gave me that impression, miss,” Johnny finally let go of her waist, knowing full well she wouldn’t leave him now.

Barb sighed as he turned to her so they were standing face to face. She wasn’t too much shorter than him, though he could still clearly see over the top of her head. “You’re getting the wrong idea, Johnny.”

“What idea is that?” he asked with a gleaming smile.

She didn’t answer, instead catching her bottom lip between her teeth. She glanced around them, but most of UP’s citizens were either in Flanagan’s bar or out on the shore waiting for the fireworks to begin. When her blue eyes fell back on Johnny he was confident enough to step towards her.

“Should I walk you back to the inn?” he asked her but she didn’t answer. “Or I know a place that's quiet?” he suggested. Barb’s eyes dropped to his lips with the last question and she nodded.

“Okay,” she breathed and Johnny tilted his head in the direction of University Point’s laundry facilities. Barbara finally uncrossed her arms when Johnny offered his hand and she allowed him to lead her away.

**Author's Note:**

> There's like no Deacon origin stories or Deacon/Barbara stories on here. Searching for the pairing gives you only a handful of results. Most are one shots, one of my favorite Fallout 4 authors has a couple, and that's pretty much it. I'm not sure if there's just not an audience for Deacon/Barbara? Oh well, here goes nothing.


End file.
